Continued Crime
by lannistersdebt
Summary: Severus Snape just cannot escape the Dark Lord's assignments. Written for Round 6 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.


His left arm burned, a slow and steady summoning, but he had no desire to respond to it. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to ignore it, to find a time-turner and to stop himself from taking that blasted Unbreakable Vow. He'd been an idiot to agree to make two of them, so tightly wound together that it would have been impossible to find any other way to accomplish the goal.

Dumbledore was dead. Draco's soul was untarnished.

Potter was alive.

Snape growled, grasping his left forearm with his right hand. The pain was growing worse, as he knew it would until he listened to it. The Dark Lord wanted to speak with him – _now_. Irritated, he let go of his arm and strode down the pathway toward the Manor. The gardens were quiet tonight, much like the whole world. The building, he knew, was another story. Once inside, he heard his name over and over, but he hardly listened. There was no time.

"M'lord." His hand hovered over the door to the library. It opened before he even knocked.

"Ah, Severus!" Voldemort motioned for him to enter and locked the door behind him. "We hoped you wouldn't be long."

"My apologies." He bowed slightly, then turned, distracted by a flutter of deep blue fabric in the corner of his eye. "Cissa?"

"Severus." The witch didn't meet his gaze. "When shall we begin, my lord?"

* * *

The houses along Forest Street were dark with the exception of a dim night light in an upstairs bedroom of the house immediately to the right of the Death Eaters. Snape took a long moment to enjoy the peacefulness that was about to be ruined, to fill his lungs with clean air just a couple more times. Nobody – with the exception of the four of them - was to walk away, according to their orders.

Finally, he gave a nod, and the tall figures to his left took off down the street. He could feel Narcissa's eyes on him as she followed him. Her stare was hardly accusatory or angry; it was simply heartbroken. "Ordinarily, we would separate. Tonight, I think, you should stay with me."

"Whatever you think is best." She drew in a shaky breath, expelled it. It was easy to see that this was her first time on a raid. "Is it actually necessary? All the chasing, and the killing?"

"Yes." He unlocked the door. "If we want to stay alive, it is."

He caught her nod, her conflicted expression, and he wanted nothing more than to tell her to wait outside the house. She didn't need to see what they were forced to do. But she _did_ need to be able to describe the experience, if she had any hope of avoiding torture tonight. With a resigned sigh, he motioned for her to get behind him and made his way through the kitchen, toward what looked like a hallway.

All was quiet in the house as they slid into the hall and looked around it. Narcissa started to light her wand, curious to see the family in the picture frames along the wall. Snape shook his head and murmured, "You don't want to do that. It only makes it worse."

With painstaking quiet, they eased their way up the staircase and were met with four doors. Two of them had names on them, one had a seashell, and the other was plain.

Narcissa edged closer to Snape, uncomfortable. "Which one do we try first?"

He turned his head slightly. "Plain. Seashell is probably the bathroom, and the names on the doors likely indicate children."

"No." Her voice was quiet, but firm. "It's more merciful to do the children first. If they happen to wake up and find their parents dead, they'll be unpredictable."

"Fine," he sighed. She was right, and he knew it. "But stay behind me."

The first room was completely dark. It smelled old, musty. _Wrong_. Snape lit his wand to confirm his thoughts. No one had occupied the bed in a few weeks, at least. Dust had settled on any available surface, disturbed only by him.

He shook his head as he stepped back out, surprised at how relieved he felt that Narcissa had stayed just in the doorway. "Same goes for the next room."

The night light came from that one, though again, there was no child in it. This room, however, lacked the air of abandonment. Its occupant simply wasn't there at that time.

He knew there was going to be no such luck in the third room, the one with the unmarked door. Quietly, he turned the knob and pushed it open. His gaze went immediately to the bed. There were three people there: two adults and one child. They were people who had done absolutely nothing wrong, who didn't deserve the end that they were going to get, and yet he had no other choice. Voldemort wanted a message delivered to the wizarding community, and he wasn't content with Dumbledore's death.

He wanted them all to know that they were at his mercy.

Closing his eyes, Snape pointed his wand at the family and uttered the two words that he couldn't get away from. The green light was bright enough that he saw it anyway, over and over and over again.

"Severus?" Narcissa tugged on his hand until he followed her into the hallway once more, shutting the door behind him. She put a hand on his chest, over his heart, and felt his heart hammering beneath her touch. "Is this what you have to go through every time?"

"No." He shook slightly, his eyes on her lips. He wanted to say that it was usually worse.

* * *

 _ **a/n;**_

This was written for Round 6 of the Harry Potter Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.  
I write as Beater 1 for the Montrose Magpies.  
My genre is crime.  
My prompts were;  
\- 2 (word); experience  
\- 4 (word); chasing


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